


First In the Field

by resplendissante



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-09
Updated: 2011-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resplendissante/pseuds/resplendissante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk wants McCoy to do something. McCoy refuses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First In the Field

**Author's Note:**

> If there was an archive warning for stupidity... sigh. I wrote this for a friend and I am still unaccountably fond of it.

_Whoever is first in the field and awaits the coming of the enemy will be fresh for the fight; whoever is second in the field and has to hasten to battle will arrive exhausted._  
-Sun Tzu

 

“No.”

Jim looks at him, wheedling, eyes intent. This is the face that gets Jim Kirk what he wants: Booze, women, Starfleet flagships . . . The man has been spoiled by his own goddamn charm, and McCoy makes it his business to offset the imbalance.

“Oh, come on, Bones. I always wear those jeans you like.” Kirk sidles up to him. This probably works on some people, but McCoy is immune: He glares.

“Listen, you idiot, it is never going to happen.”

“But _Bones_ , I haven’t had sex with anyone else in like _five months_ , because you said you’d never take it up the ass again if you had to worry about infectious diseases, and this is such a great solution.” Kirk is really turning it on right now, and by ‘it’ McCoy does not mean himself. “It wouldn’t take any effort. You’re already really smart.” Jim nuzzles his jaw, just below his ear. “It’s not _that_ much to ask.”

McCoy sighs. “Yes, Jim. Yes, it is. I know that your approach to sex is pretty much everyone else’s approach to library-building, but read my lips: It. Is. Never. Going. To –mmmph.”

One thing Jim is extremely talented with is his mouth. In every sense, dirty and non-dirty. Making out with Jim is rarely a burden, unless he’s ruining it by speaking, which happens with distressing regularity.

Such as now: “Please, Bones,” Jim murmurs, keeping his mouth close enough to McCoy’s that McCoy can count on one hand the number of things Jim has done that annoyed him more. “Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please – “

“Goddammit, Jim, you’re the captain of a constitution-class heavy cruiser, not my eight-year-old daughter. This is pathetic.”

“– please, please, please, please, please – “ Jim pauses to nibble McCoy’s lower lip. “Bones, I can go on all day. You know I can.”

“Just because you can do something – “

“And,” Jim says, kissing the corner of his mouth, “you totally love me. Like, you love me like that lady loved salt. You'd suck me out of someone's skin with your fingertips - " Jim pauses, debating whether to pursue this horrifying train of thought, dismisses it, and continues, "That's a pretty good reason.”

McCoy tries not to lean too obviously into Kirk’s hands, gripping his shoulder and his hip with pressure that’s starting to burn. Doing so would definitely be his undoing; Jim Kirk can spot weakening defenses from a hundred miles away. This doesn't even make him a good captain, since his first and only response is, _Let's see if we can crack 'em wide open_ , and the answer is usually, _Concussion, grade II_. “Can’t we do something normal? We still have those handcuffs. Or the gag. I could _really_ get into – ”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Jim wheedles, dragging one hand up McCoy’s side to the back of his neck. “Every couple needs to spice it up a little. I read it in a magazine. You know what they say about things you read.”

“Listen, asshole,” McCoy starts, but Jim gets to his lips before he can deliver any kind of sermon on the benefits of restraint(s). The man has a handy talent for self-preservation that makes him a decent (if frequent flying) patient, and a pain in the ass everywhere else.

On the other hand, maybe he can distract Jim; it’s worked before. So he shifts from prey to predator, nose brushing Jim’s, until it’s all heat and pressure and touch – “Please,” Jim says just when he thinks he's off the hook. No, of course not, because this is Jim Kirk, not a normal person. Jim's busy getting off on manipulating McCoy into manipulating him.

So much for diversionary tactics. “You’re not going to stop until I give in, are you,” McCoy says glumly, before Jim can draw breath to start again.

Jim grins. “Nope.”

“Dammit, Jim,” McCoy feels the need to say, shoulders slumping in defeat, “I’m a doctor, not a motherfucking Vulcan.”

“Just put on the ears and glare at me. _Totally_ like that. Good. I’m gonna set up the camera – “

The starship _Enterprise_ is a graveyard for Leonard McCoy’s dignity.


End file.
